


Close Quarters

by Webhoard



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Awkwardness, Cussing, F/M, I fixed the canon: Laura and Clint are siblings NOT married. You're welcome., Innuendo, Sharing a Bed, ahw yeah, mature themes but not 18+ if that makes sense, pop-culture references, probably a billion typos but i'm a lazy bitch, rated r
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 06:48:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14279349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Webhoard/pseuds/Webhoard
Summary: A ‘relaxing’ week at the Barton family farm takes an unexpected turn when the sleeping arrangements get shuffled.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: “Don’t be intimidated by my bloody and battered figure” written for [@e-g-b-o-k‘s](https://e-g-b-o-k.tumblr.com/) 500 Follower Challenge.
> 
> Lol, so I had to rewrite this because I drowned my computer by mistake, so it kinda sorta got changed, but I think for the better? It certainly got longer, sigh, and there’s probably a billion typos.

You could feel the few feeble rays of warmth on your skin of your cheeks as you lay drowsing in a rope hammock strung between a sugar maple and a scraggly willow that had seen better days. Enjoying the occasional whiff of the sickly-sweet laurels and apple blossoms on the breeze, you listened to a steady low chorus of grasshoppers, buzzing bees, and clicking water bugs that serenaded you in your repose. And feeling more like a cat in a sunbeam than an Avenger, you gave a deep stretch to your limbs and core before rolling over to let the springtime sun filtering through the sparse spring leaves heat your back, dropping the toes of one foot to the ground to gently rock the hammock back and forth at a lazy pace.

Moments like these were rare in the lives of the Avengers, and you were determined to make the most of it even if it was, in truth, more than a little dull. You could ignore the occasional tickle and itch on your skin as the bugs buzzed around and the wind blew on the tiny hairs on your arms. You could ignore the occasional sensation of an unseen bug crawling across your ankles or the somewhat stifling humidity rising from the nearby pond that made your skin feel sticky and your brow moist. You could almost even ignore the distant disruptive shouts and sounds of testosterone, power tools, and hammering echoing from across the back pasture that intruded upon your ability to relax.

You were determined to unwind and have a good time dammit, come hell or high water. 

You heard a familiar voice give a slightly pained cry and you ruefully smiled to yourself, wondering just what in the hell the guys were getting up to that could conjure such a din. You couldn’t help but let your mind wander to a pair of strong hands that were no doubt pushing dirty blond bangs off a sweaty forehead, the way that white undershirt was probably straining at the seams across a broad muscled chest, and the way the sun was no doubt casting shadows off a sharp pair of cheekbones and jawline that set your pulse into overdrive. You couldn’t help the small shiver that ran down your spine, and you couldn’t be sure if it were still the sunshine and humidity that were making your skin feel so hot.

You and the rest of the team, a team largely comprised of spies and intelligence operatives, should have seen it coming. Of course Clint had had ulterior motives when he’d invited the team to his sister Laura’s farm for a relaxing week away from the bustle of the Manhattan. Of course he had planned to take advantage of the presence of strong super soldiers and spies in repairing the fences in the back pasture. And of course you, along with Wanda and Natasha, had all but vanished from the vicinity when he’d begun making small talk about his renovation projects over breakfast that morning lest you get recruited for manual labor.

To be fair to Clint, he hadn’t sprung it on any of you right off the bat when you’d all arrived several days prior over the weekend, but that did nothing the quell your determination to spend the week relaxing and being lazy. While you did feel a little guilty for lying about in boredom in a hammock while the guys were all hard at work, another irritated male shout echoed from across the pasture and reminded you that there were worse ways to spend an afternoon than napping in a sunbeam and avoiding responsibility.

Glancing down at your watch, your suspicion that it was well past lunchtime was confirmed as your stomach clenched hungrily not for the first time in the last few hours that you’d been hiding away from Clint. If the still echoing sounds of hammering and power tools were any indication, the guys were still busy and the coast was likely clear as you awkwardly stumbled out of the unsteady rope hammock and furtively began making your way back to the farmhouse and the promise of food and ice water, wary of being spotted and drug into the fence repairs. 

Stopping in the powder bath to relieve yourself and splash some water on your face, you soon heard the sounds of lively female voices from the kitchen. 

You were greeted by a chorus of slightly slurred ‘heys’ as you walked in and assessed the situation. Wanda, Natasha, and Laura were all crowded around the end of the long kitchen table holding tumblers of an amber liquid with glassy eyes and varying expressions of inebriation.

You laughed at the scene, “I can’t believe you all are drinking whiskey at three o’clock on a Tuesday, but I’m also not arguing.”

“Speak of the devil,” Natasha muttered just loud enough for you to hear. Before you could ask her about it though, Wanda was rising from her seat with a wide smile and tipping her glass toward you.

“Y/N!” Wanda called exuberantly. “Where’ve you been? We tried calling you, but you left your phone upstairs.”

Laughing at Wanda’s tipsy enthusiasm and retrieving your own glass from the cupboard, you responded, “I was hiding from Clint and the guys in a hammock over near the pond.” You flashed Laura a guilty look. 

“Don’t worry,” Laura reassured, “He tried getting me to make them a pitcher of lemonade like a fifties housewife, so I slipped upstairs to my bathroom and painted my toenails while these two told me embarrassing stories from the tower.”

You grimaced slightly and looked over at Natasha as you took a seat next to Wanda, “So I take it that’s what I walked in on?”

Natasha smirked and raised a brow at you, “Oh no, we were just laughing about the way Steve looked like he was eye-fucking you over his French toast this morning.”

You almost dropped the bottle of whiskey mid-pour, laughing nervously in a lame attempt to play it cool, “Ha, what are you talking about? I didn’t notice anything.”

Natasha and Laura smiled knowingly, and you felt a small imaginary lump form in the back of your throat, which you desperately tried to swallow down. Natasha had long suspected that you had a crush on Steve and often teased you about it. But this? Bringing Steve into it like this was new. Best to do what you did best: deflect lest things get too personal.

Wanda chimed in from next to you, “Oh, c’mon, you cannot tell me you didn’t notice him. You were staring and practically drooling on the table.” 

“I was not drooling!” You denied indignantly. “I was merely taking a moment to appreciate his objectively handsome features.”

“So you admit you were ogling him,” Natasha smirked at you.

“I never denied that, just that he was ogling me back. Maybe I had something in my teeth. I did put a lot of pepper on my eggs.” 

Doing your best to ignore the collective eye roll, you took your first sip of whiskey, gasping slightly at the burn. 

Natasha leaned forward to catch your eye, “Consider this an intervention, Y/N. We’re sick of seeing you both pining and drooling over each other. You need to talk to Steve about your feelings. He likes you back; everyone sees it. Even Clint, who’s clueless about most things, can see it.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes at her and Wanda, who was nodding and smiling enthusiastically, “Okay, first of all, who is ‘we’ and why is there an intervention? And secondly, Steve and I are just friends, Nat. We have the same relationship that I have with each of you and everyone else on this team, totally platonic.” 

Natasha and Wanda both made sounds of disagreement, but before they could get a single word in edgewise, Laura was standing from her seat and walking over to the sink to dump out the remaining few sips in her glass, “Well, as much as I would like to sit here and watch this unfold, I’m gonna go walk down to the main road to get my kids from the school bus. Nat, care to join me?”

Natasha reluctantly nodded her head before looking you in the eyes and leaning in close, “We are not done with this conversation.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved Natasha off, tipping back the final sip of your whiskey. You dodged Wanda’s expectant face by making your way upstairs to the room you and she were sharing to get a fresh change of clothes and your toiletries before heading into the bathroom for a quick shower. 

You had just finished dressing and were applying lotion to your face and neck when the door to the bathroom was flung open suddenly and loudly, and you screeched in surprise. Steve, looking just as startled with a tinge of guilt slammed the door shut immediately almost out of instinct.

“Jesus, Steve!” You shouted, clutching at your chest where your heart was flutteringly attempting to regain its normal rhythm. “Try knocking next time. You scared the shit out of me.”

You could hear his low chuckle from outside the door before he cracked it open a bit and stood in the doorway. Just as you had imagined, his dirt and sweat stained undershirt clung to every ripple of his muscles, his arms and hands were peppered with more than a few bloody scratches and scrapes, and his bright blue eyes seemed to shine out from under dark, thick lashes, which stared back at you with a curious expression.

He just quirked a brow at you, letting one corner of his mouth tug into a half smile, **“Don’t be intimidated by my bloody and battered figure. The chicken wire put up a good fight, but I won out in the end.”**

You met his cocky grin with one of your own, “Oh please, you don’t intimidate me, but the way you go slamming open doors without warning, is getting old. And chicken wire? Seriously? You look like you got in a fist fight with a honey badger.”

Still leaning against the door frame, his smile fell slightly and that single crease between his brows began to form. “Honey badger? If that’s a reference, I’m not getting it.”

You giggled, “It’s a real animal and a reference. I’ll send you a YouTube link.” Looking back at your reflection, you checked that your face lotion was rubbed in all the way before turning to him, adding, “I’m guessing that you want the shower, so I’ll be on my way. Just don’t use all the hot water this time. Tony might actually kill you in your sleep.”

“Well if he does kill me tonight after I take a very long hot shower, live up to your name and avenge me,” Steve could barely keep from laughing at his own banter.

You rolled your eyes at him as you walked out, “Oh my god, Steve. You are so, so…”

He looked at you expectantly, fidgeting with the still folded towel in his hands, retort prepared for if you tried to insult him, so you finished sarcastically, “So hilarious. Really, quit your day job and hit up an open mic night.”

He just gave you a withering look as he wound up his towel to snap at you, “Get out.”

Laughing nervously, you slammed the door shut and made your way down to the kitchen where the sounds and smells of Laura’s cooking drew you like a moth to a flame.

* * *

The remainder of the night was spent much in the same fashion as previous evenings. Natasha and Clint kept close to each other, lavishing his niece and nephew with affection and more than a few piggy back rides while Sam, who watched far too much Chopped and Top Chef, helped Laura who was cooking up a storm in the kitchen as Bucky heckled from the sidelines. Wanda and Vision were god knows where doing god knows what, leaving you, Steve, and Tony sitting in the living room pointedly keeping out of the way of the cooks and doing your best to avoid getting pulled into the kids’ playtime.

Steve and Tony were making small talk, exchanging opinions on the upcoming baseball season while your eyes glazed over and you tried to look even slightly interested in the matter at hand. Your mind, however, wandered aimlessly as your gaze drifted over Steve’s form. Some conscious part of your brain knew you were openly staring at Steve, but that little voice was muted by the other more dominant one that was lavishing praise on how Steve’s muscles were defined even when his arms were relaxed, the way the veins stood out against his skin, and the way his sleeves fitted tightly over his delts and biceps. 

The sound of him clearing his throat suddenly brought you back to the present. Tony had apparently vacated the vicinity at some point.

“You know, it’s rude to stare,” he smirked at you before taking a long drink from his water glass.

“Oh, no. I— I mean,” you stuttered before thinking on your feet, “Your scratches are already healed up.” You gestured lamely to his now unmarred skin where there had previously been some rather red and angry scratches from the fence repairs. 

“Ah, serum,” Steve muttered, not sounding quite convinced but letting it drop all the same.

You couldn’t help but notice the way that his eyes seemed to light up as he looked at you, the way his gaze flitted from your eyes to your mouth and back. Maybe Natasha, Wanda, and the others were actually onto something.

But before you could even dwell on that thought another moment, let alone act on it, Laura and Sam were calling everyone into the kitchen for supper.

After dinner, everyone shared a few drinks on the large wrap around porch taking turns playing with the kids before sending them off to bed and gossiping about the comings and goings of the tower.

And all the while, you kept sneaking glances at Steve and occasionally caught his eyeline in the process while Natasha sent you more than one knowing smirk and a wink, making for a rather tedious evening. You were sure that you’d have to force yourself to lay in that hammock for at least five hours the next day to fully recover from this evening. And by the time everyone started filing back into the house to their respective rooms, you were more than ready to sleep off the day’s mental trials.

When you reached the room you were sharing with Wanda, however, you found that the knob was locked. 

Rapping your knuckles gently on the oak door, you could hear low voices from within. “Wanda? It’s me? I’m ready to sleep now.” You had a feeling you were about to lose your spot on the bed.

Sure enough, Wanda answered the door with your suitcase in hand, holding it out to you, “Y/N. I need this. Vis and I haven’t had any alone time in days. Can you please crash with Nat?”

Taking your bag with a scowl, you replied, “But she’s shacked up with Clint.”

Wanda looked down thoughtfully, “What about the couch downstairs?”

“Bucky’s there to keep watch for ‘intruders’ or some such thing,” you said, your scowl deepening.

“What about Sam’s room?” She asked her brow growing increasingly concerned.

“He’s with Tony, and with the way they’ve been bickering all week about smelly socks and Tony’s mint face cream, there’s no way I’m sleeping between the two of them. I’ll probably end up smothering them in their sleep. Wanda…” You trailed off.

“You could sleep in with Lila?” She looked both hopeful and defeated.

“No. She’s a child I barely know, and I’m a grown-ass woman,” you sighed out.

There was only one remaining spot in the house, and Wanda must have come to the same conclusion as a mischievous glint came into her eyes. You beat her to the punch, “Don’t you say it. I swear to god…”

“You could share a bed with Steve since Vis won’t be in there tonight,” she flashed you a toothy smile. 

“What did I just tell you not to say. Goddammit,” you pinched the bridge of your nose with your free hand.

“C’mon, you two have had to share quarters on missions before. How is this any different?” 

You couldn’t deny that she had a point there. And unless you wanted to majorly intrude upon Laura’s hospitality and go knocking on her door, Steve’s room really was your best option. With a sigh, you nodded your head at her, “Just know, that you owe me one.”

Wanda chuckled, “Who knows, maybe you’ll be owing me a favor come tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” you called softly over your shoulder as you made your way down the hall to where Steve, and formerly Vision, was staying.

You knocked softly on the door and took a steadying breath as you heard the bed springs squeak followed by firm footfalls toward the door.

Steve looked momentarily surprised when he opened the door and saw you, but before he could even say hi, your mouth took off like a rocket.

“Vision and Wanda need alone time in my room, hence him not being here, Clint and Natasha are probably doing the do right now, Bucky’s taking the couch, I might kill Tony and Sam if I have to bunk with them, Lila doesn’t need to share with an adult she barely knows, and I can’t intrude on Laura’s space when she’s been so accommodating about everything else this whole week. Can I sleep on your rug please?”

Steve’s brows steadily rose higher and higher as he took in your rapid monologue, and there was a ringing silence that followed after your speech concluded as Steve looked at you with a bemused expression.

“I think I caught all of that?” He grinned at you as you rolled your eyes more at yourself than at Steve. “Come on in,” he swept his hand out of the way to let you in.

As soon as the door shut behind you both, you could feel your breathing hitch and your heart begin to race. Maybe it was because of what Natasha and Wanda had said this morning. Maybe it was because even you couldn’t deny that there had been a weird tension between you and Steve this week. But for whatever the reason, suddenly being alone in a bedroom with Steve was making every nerve in your body come alive with an electric charge. 

“You’re not sleeping on the floor, Y/N,” Steve’s voice sounded from behind you, making your heart stutter at the sound, “I’ll grab a sleeping pad from Laura’s camping supplies and take the floor.”

You felt a pang of guilt run through you, “Ahw, Steve, you can’t take the floor. You spent all day working. I lay in a hammock for like four hours. The bed is yours,” you held your hands up in a conciliatory manner, “Really. I insist.”

Steve huffed through a smile, clearly seeing that neither of you were going to be able to out-polite the other, “Look, we can just share. Then no one has to feel guilty about sleeping on the bed.”

You could almost feel a giddy energy rising up your thighs and across your torso. You’d shared sleeping quarters with Steve before, but you had never slept in the same bed as him before. You didn’t know if you should go throttle Wanda or kiss her.

Sensing your hesitancy, Steve added, “I mean, if you really want to sleep on the floor…”

You gave a short nervous laugh, “Ha, we can share the bed, just don’t touch me with your feet and we’ll be ok.”

Steve rolled his eyes at you, “Same goes for you. Wanda told me your feet are like blocks of ice.”

Yeah, you were going to throttle her for certain. Looking over to Steve, you gulped back a nervous lump, “Well, I’m gonna go get changed and brush my teeth.” You quickly exited the room and took a few deep steadying breaths. You could do this. You could sleep in the same bed as Steve without having a panic attack. Yep. Easy peasy. 

Fuck.

By the time you were done getting ready for bed and performing some breathing exercises, Steve was already on the right side of the bed, sitting with his back propped up under a couple pillows and texting furiously on his phone. He was so focused on his screen, that he didn’t even look up when you entered the room.

“There’s not an emergency I need to know about is there?” You asked as you placed your day clothes into your suitcase.

Steve, who apparently hadn’t noticed that you’d come in, jerked up with a start, accidentally flinging his phone halfway across the room where it landed on the rug near you with a muffled thud.

“Oh, shit. Sorry,” Steve sputtered as he leapt out of bed to retrieve his phone before you could lean down and get it for him. “Just texting Bucky about…something personal.”

Trying to hide your smile at his flustered behavior, you said, “Easy there. I won’t look at your phone. Besides, he’s just downstairs, and you’re texting him? Turning into quite a modern man, Steve.”

His ears flashed red as he opened and closed his mouth a few times before finding his words, “Well, I just. This was easier, and I wanted to make sure I could claim my side of the bed…” He trailed off, looking up at you with a puppyish look and a small smile. 

“Well, I promise I will not steal your side of the bed.” God, why were you being so lame? You wished you could think of something cooler or funnier to say, but your brain couldn’t keep up with your mouth.

Steve looked up at you through long dark lashes, stealing a furtive glance down at his phone. Unable to handle whatever this tension was in the room and hanging all around the two of you, you walked over to the edge of the bed.

“Left side’s mine, yeah?” Not waiting for a response, you pulled back the covers and climbed in.

“Yeah, it’s, I like the right side. Near the window,” Steve muttered out, slowly making his way over to the other side of the bed and climbing back in himself.

As you fidgeted into a comfortable position on your back, pointed just slightly away from Steve, you could almost feel his eyes on you. 

“Uhm,” you cleared your throat and began again, “Don’t worry about the phone screen or turning off the lamp. I’m a heavy sleeper so as long as you don’t start masturbating, we’re good.” The words tumbled out before your brain could sensor them, and you quickly bit back what would have been an audible groan of regret, settling instead on a set of nervous laughs. 

Steve, laughing nervously himself, stuttered slightly, “Oh, well, don’t worry about that. I promise to keep it in check for at least one night.” He couldn’t hold back his embarrassed groan, and you looked up to see him squinting his eyes shut in a self-scolding manner.

“Smooth like a shark, Steve,” you laughed at him, grateful that you weren’t the only one having difficulty with words.

“Is that a reference?” He asked, his voice slightly muffled from his hands. 

You laughed softly through your nose, “Yeah, I’ll send you a link.” Turning off your own lamp, you said softly, “Well. Okay, uh, ‘night, Steve.” Pulling the covers close up to your chin, you rolled over on your side away from him. 

“G’night, Y/N,” Steve sighed before putting his phone down, turning off the lamp on his nightstand, and settling himself into the covers, the mattress sinking slightly under his weight.

And despite how awkward the silent darkness felt, and how the heat rolling off his body, which was so close to your own, made your nerves come alight with a longing energy, you soon drifted off into unconsciousness.

* * *

Your body felt unimaginably hot, cocooned in a smothering warmth, contrasting to the cold sting of the morning air against your cheeks and nose. Your limbs and back felt stiff and sore, but when you attempted to move them and stretch them, you found that your body was locked in place by the same source of the heat. 

Steve.

Your breath seemed to die in your chest as your heart began beating at an uncomfortable clip. Steve. Steve in bed next to you. Steve’s arms. Around you. His chest on your back. Spooning you. His breath on your neck. His breath hitching. Shit.

You craned your neck carefully around and your eyes were met with a pair of stunned blue eyes.

“Hi,” you half whispered.

You could see his brows contract into a worried creased as he whispered back, “Uh, hi.”

You and he remained perfectly still a few seconds longer, eyes still disconcertingly locked with each other’s, until finally the tension became too much for you. You didn’t want to get up, to leave his embrace, to no longer be wrapped in his warm and surprisingly soft arms. But you also knew that this was nothing but a fleeting moment, a few short self-indulgent seconds that would no doubt turn into an inside joke between the two of you.

Finally, those uncomfortably comfortable seconds stretched on a beat too long and you gently wiggled in his grasp, which he quickly released.

“Hah,” you began as you scrambled out of bed, wincing at the sting of the cold wood floors beneath your feet, “Well this is awkward. At least I didn’t drool on you…I hope.”

Steve sitting up in his place, smiled shyly, “Not too much drool.” He looked down at you as you picked up your slippers off the ground, “But seriously, I’m sorry. I must have rolled over in my sleep. I didn’t mean—”

“Steve, it’s okay,” you cut him off with a wave of your hand. “It’s not a big deal; I promise.” 

Tugging on a thick pair of socks before sliding on your slippers, you noticed that Steve was still sitting under the covers looking down at you with wide and uncertain eyes.

“Truly, no biggie. Now c’mon, it smells like Laura’s cooking bacon, and if you keep dawdling there, Clint and Bucky are gonna eat it all.”

He made no move to get up, “I’m just gonna— I’ll be down in a little while.” He flashed you a sheepish smile, “Save me some bacon.”

You shook your head at him and the way he was still awkwardly sitting under the covers. But noticing the way he had his hands awkwardly folded in his lap, you figured he had a good reason for staying under the covers.

“Okay, well, see you in a bit then.” You muttered as you shuffled to the door.

You wanted nothing more than to run back into the room and climb under the covers with Steve, tell him how much you liked him, and hear him confess his undying love for you. You snorted at the ridiculous thought. 

So much for a relaxing week away. You were going to need another vacation to recover from this one.  



	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here be the second and final part! Enjoy!!

You smacked Wanda on the arm as soon as you saw her, “You had better change the sheets before tonight.”

Seeing your face, she decided to save whatever teasing remark had been on the tip of her tongue, “So, no midnight confessions, I take it?”

You looked at her flatly, taking the coffee carafe from her outstretched hand, “No. We slept, woke up, and now here I am eating breakfast.” There was no way you were telling her about what position you’d been in when you’d woken up.

“So then what’s the big deal?” She asked, stirring some sugar into her coffee.

You sighed, as you poured a mug of your own, “It was awkward, Wanda, sleeping in the same bed, right next to the man I’ve been crushing on.” You could have slapped yourself as soon as the words came out.

Wanda’s face lit up, but she kept her voice calm, “Well,” she placed a patronizingly comforting hand on your shoulder, “Admitting it is the first step, Y/N. Natasha will be so proud.”

“I hate you,” you muttered as you both walked over to the table to join the veritable feeding frenzy that was the Avengers’ breakfast, and Wanda merely beamed in response.

“What will I be proud of?” Natasha asked through a mouthful of waffles and syrup.

“Nothing—”

“Y/N finally admitted her crush that we all already knew about,” Wanda cut you off, her volume alarmingly high, but luckily no one seemed to hear you, and Clint was too busy reading Sam and Bucky’s lips to notice Wanda’s.

You buried your face in your hands as Natasha reached over and slapped you on the back, “Atta girl. Baby steps.”

“I hate both of you,” you added, piling far too much bacon onto your plate to ensure Steve got some. 

As you doused your waffles in a generous pour of syrup, Bucky leaned over from his place.

“So, I heard Stevie’s got a new teddy bear,” he whispered so as to not be heard by the others, a cheeky grin on his face. You stared back at him with a flat expression.

“Bucky, I love you. It’s important for me to know that you know that,” you said, looking him unblinkingly in the eye.

Bucky responded with a confused smile, “Okay?”

You stabbed your butter knife into your waffles and began cutting a ragged bite with an aggressive jerk of your hand. “But I will come for you from the inky blackness of the shadows at night, Bucky. You will not even perceive me or my violent intentions until I am already upon you, Bucky. It will not end well for you, Bucky. Do you understand what I am getting at, Bucky?”

He flashed an unimpressed smirk at you before taking a smug sip of his tea, “That was about a nine on the tension scale there, Y/N.”

“Hilarious _Burbs_ reference. Brilliant. Twelve out of ten,” you grumbled, rolling your eyes, barely able to suppress your smile. It really was an apt reference. “I’m just glad that you’re actually enjoying my movie lists enough to use them against me.”

“Well, well, well, speak of the devil, and he shall appear,” he muttered, quickly leaning back into his seat, leaving the chair next to you open. “Don’t worry, I’m sayin’ nothing.”

You looked up to see Steve shuffling into the kitchen, his cheeks burning red as soon as he locked eyes with you. Bingo. Okay, the others definitely, maybe, probably had to be onto something there regarding him. Unless he was just blushing because he was uncomfortable about accidentally spooning a teammate whom he only saw as a friend. Because of your lack of clarity, you decided to fall back on your tried and true tactic: play it cool and act like nothing was up.

“Steve,” you acknowledged him as he slid into the open seat next to you.

“Y/N,” he responded.

You slid your plate toward him slightly to give him access to the heaping stack of bacon you’d managed to save. He gave you a shy, grateful smile as he picked up the lot and placed them on his plate. 

“So how’d you sleep, Rogers?” Natasha asked, perking up from her conversation with Wanda.

“Fine. Good mattress,” Steve responded through a mouthful of bacon, washing it down with a swig of his coffee. “Why do ask, Nat? What possible reason would you have to ask me about the quality of my sleep this morning of all mornings?”

Natasha merely smirked into her mug, cocking an eyebrow at you, to which you responded with an eyeroll and a disapproving smile.

You laughed nervously, wondering if Bucky could have possibly spread word about what had happened between you and Steve or if Natasha were simply having a ball with the other dirt she’d learned this morning. Deciding to clam up and tune out, you looked down to your plate of waffles and ate them with the determination of someone who would not be interrupted.

* * *

The remainder of the week on the farm was spent in a similar fashion except that Steve seemed to be doing his best to avoid being alone with you, and your hammock sessions became markedly reduced.

Clint somehow managed to conscript you, Wanda, and Natasha for repainting the eaves on the house the following day, and so you relinquished the smell of the laurels and apple blossoms for the smell of volatile solvents and your lazy sunbeam naps for shamelessly immature paintbrush flinging with Natasha and Wanda as a still steady influx of shouts and voices filtered across the pasture from the fences.

If you were being completely truthful with yourself, you were actually mildly enjoying the mindless task as you as you craned your neck for the detailed work of cutting in cream colored paint around the newly painted blue trim. Despite your perpetual grumblings about an aching neck and Clint abusing his friendships for personal gain, you were grateful for the tedious work as it kept your mind wandering at a far more relaxing pace than it would have if you had continued to lay about the whole week.

Logistically speaking, it was surprisingly easy for Steve to avoid you. Under the guise of being a good friend, he gave the fence repairs his all, getting up some mornings with Laura and the kids, walking them down to the bus stop and then spending the rest of the day detangling baling wire and any other tasks that Clint needed done. He even volunteered to help re-shingle the roof of the chicken coop. 

Emotionally speaking, avoiding you was both the hardest and the most instinctual thing for Steve to do. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be around you or talk to you or stare at you, it’s just that he’d made a complete ass of himself. He had actually snuggled up to you in the middle of the night, and when he’d awoken to find you in his arms, the smell of your shampoo wafting up and drowning his senses, he couldn’t help the way he’d reacted. He was pretty sure you hadn’t caught on to the way he’d had to bunch the sheets around his lap, but you also were a trained agent and spy, so… Yeah, he wanted to crawl into a hole in the ground and hibernate there for the next few decades.

And the teasing and ribbing he was getting from Bucky was relentless. And then Clint, that sneaky bastard, had read Bucky’s lips from at least twenty feet down the fence line, and of course he had then proceeded to tell Sam and Tony about his morning wood. Yeah, that hole in the ground was starting to look more and more inviting. 

Steve’s one hope was that at the end of the week, when everyone would pack it up and head back to the tower, life would go back to normal. You would have your room, one floor up and down the hall, and he would have his. He could go back to staring at you from across the training room and pretending that you were just a friend to him, and maybe soon enough, Sam, Bucky, Clint and Tony would grow tired of teasing him about all this. Okay, maybe not Bucky. Or Tony. Or Sam. Or Clint. Shit.

The next few days ticked by at an odd pace; sometimes time flew, and other times it trickled painfully slowly. At the present moment, time seemed to have stopped altogether. It was Saturday night, the last night of this impromptu working vacation, and Steve was busy watching you desperately trying to play with Lila and Cooper and failing fantastically.

“Oh, that’s such a cool bat you’ve painted there, Lila. I’m very impressed,” you said in that falsetto that adults tended to adopt around kids when they didn’t know what they were doing.

Steve could see the crestfallen look that overcame Lila as she mumbled, “It’s not a bat; it’s a butterfly.”

He wanted to laugh at the awkward and alarmed look on your face as you laughed nervously and patted Lila on the head, “Oh, oh yeah! I see it now. I must need to get my eyes checked out, huh? Blind as bat is more like it.”

Cooper’s face lit up with the kind of irritated knowing look that only children could truly master, “Not all bats are blind, Miss Y/N. Fruit bats can see.”

Steve finally did laugh, when you nodded your head, clearly biting back a sarcastic response.

“You know,” Bucky’s voice intruded on his observations, “If you just go actually talk to her, you might look like less of a creep.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help smiling at his friend, “You know, Bucky, one might think you were staring at me. So who’s the creep now?”

Bucky grinned slightly, “Touché. But seriously, go over to her, and use your words.”

Steve sighed, his eyes darting back over to your clearly panicked demeanor, “I know, I just— Well, I just want everything to go back to normal, that’s all.”

“Well, that ship sailed the second you spooned her and popped a boner, pal.”

Steve fixed Bucky with a flat gaze, “You know what, Bucky?”

Bucky reached over to clap him on the shoulder, “I don’t know anything, amnesiac and all.”

Steve was torn between amusement and irritation when Bucky used his amnesia card like this. It was nice to see that he hadn’t lost his cynical sense of humor, but he also felt that Bucky shouldn’t make light of something so serious. Bucky, of course, knew how Steve felt, which only spurred him to joke about it even more.

“C’mon, Stevie,” Bucky smiled cheekily, “Go over there and talk to her. Besides, she looks like she needs all the help she can get, though I don’t know that you’d actually make things any better.”

Steve glared at Bucky another few seconds before turning his eyes back to you. Help wasn’t the half of it. Steve had no idea what could have possibly transpired in the few moments that he and Bucky had been talking, but it had taken a sudden and unfortunate turn. Lila’s lower lip was trembling and her eyes were beginning to become ringed with red, Cooper was looking up at you indignantly as he wrapped a protective arm around his sister, and you looked like the definition of alarm as you attempted to soothe Lila with soft and increasingly desperate pleas before the dam finally broke. Lila let out a long plaintive wail as you watched her in hopeless horror.

Steve momentarily thought about going over to help, but before he could, Laura swept in. She gave you a sympathetic smile, assuring you that you’d done nothing wrong before stooping down and wrapping Lila in a motherly embrace. Cooper, valiant brother that he was continued to glare at you as you slowly backed away and headed for the kitchen where Steve and Bucky were both watching in amusement, along with several of the others.

“You’re a real natural, Y/N,” Sam teased before sipping at his beer.

“Yeah, nailed it. If anyone needs me, I think I’m gonna make like Virginia Woolf and go walk into the pond with a pocketful of rocks,” you muttered, slouching down into one of the kitchen chairs with an audible sigh.

“Too soon, Y/N, too soon,” Sam laughed.

You looked up, irritation painting every feature, “Are you serious? That was over a hundred years ago,” you trailed off seeing Sam’s smartass smile, “Oh, hah hah hah. Hilarious. On that note, I’m gonna go take a shower.”

And with another irritated sigh, you shuffled out of the kitchen and out of Steve’s sight without even a glance in his direction.

He didn’t know if he should be relieved or disappointed that you hadn’t spared him a sideways glance. He wanted you to look at him, but he was also mortified by the thought, for the time being anyway. With a sigh, he turned back to Bucky, wishing that tomorrow would get here already.

* * *

You leant your head against the cold glass wall of the shower stall, willing the steaming water to somehow make you feel like less of an ass. This vacation had gone from boring to exciting to tedious to worse. Steve was openly avoiding you, you had somehow managed to make Lila cry for the second night in a row, and _Steve was avoiding you_.

You had no fucking idea what was happening beneath that calm and collected demeanor of his, but you were pretty sure that word had gotten out about him spooning you in bed, which was no doubt agitating the tension between you both. No one had said anything to you directly, but you could tell that something was up by the way Sam occasionally elbowed Steve in the ribs when you walked into the same room and the way the tips of Steve’s ears would turn pink. It was as demoralizing as it was infuriating.

You wanted nothing more than to cuddle up in in your own bed where Wanda wouldn’t be able to pester you after your ‘goodnights’ and ‘sleep wells’ with questions and theories about Steve. But you’d have to endure one more night before that could happen.

At first you had thought that maybe Steve would make a move after that morning, but then he just didn’t. And on top that, since he wouldn’t let himself be alone near you, you couldn’t exactly make a move yourself. Yeah, getting back to the tower and your normal routine couldn’t come soon enough.

You groaned when you heard Tony calling through the door about you hogging the shower and using up all the hot water. So, giving yourself a final rinse under the warm water, you stepped out, dried off, and got into your PJs. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re high maintenance?” You grumbled to Tony who was wearing a plush robe and leaning next to bathroom door, hands folded in front of him.

He smirked, “Pepper, every single day. But there better still be hot water.”

“And what if there’s not?” You smirked right back in challenge.

He arched a brow, challenge accepted apparently. “I’ll have Friday change the temperature settings in your shower for the next week.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?” He grinned, “Nah, even I could never be so cruel.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder gently. “Let’s not get carried away now. Anyway, g’night and enjoy your luke-warm water,” you laughed over your shoulder as you headed down the hall.

When you got to your door, your blood ran cold. Your suitcase was propped against the wall next to the door, and there was a sock on the doorknob. You rapped noisily on the door with your fist before trying the knob, only to find it was locked.

“Wanda!” you whisper yelled through the door, not wanting to cause a scene or alert anyone else to your plight or worse, wake one of the kids. “Wanda, open the door!”

You could hear her giggling faintly from within, “I need this, Y/N. You know where to go.”

“Wanda, I am not kidding around. Open the fucking door!” 

The only response she gave was to turn on her music. Jeez, was that Portishead? You shook your head, torn between anger, anxiety, and a slight hint of amusement at her choice of get-down music. All kinds of kinds, you supposed.

With one last futile attempt at the doorknob, you picked up your bag and made your way to Steve’s room.

You knocked and waited in increasing agitation, listening to him shuffle in the room. When he opened the door, he looked as though his suspicions had been proven right. 

“Wanda?” He asked, a small shy smile on his lips.

“Wanda,” you confirmed with a grimace before walking past him and into the room. Without waiting for any awkwardness to begin again, you climbed into bed on the left side and slumped down into the covers with a discontented groan.

Steve stood still for an uncomfortable moment before closing the door quietly and coming over to his side of the bed. When the mattress sunk beneath his weight, you wanted to simply let gravity do its job and just roll down to him, but then you remembered that didn’t hate yourself and instead just rolled the other way and turned off your bedside lamp.

Steve cleared his throat before turning off his lamp and settling himself under the covers. With the lights out and the room submerged into darkness, your awkward embarrassment seemed to lessen somewhat.

“Hey, Steve?” You half whispered, rolling onto your back.

“Yeah?” Came his uncharacteristically timid voice.

“We’re, uh, you and I are good, right?”

You could feel him roll onto his side toward you. “Yeah, we’re good.” You couldn’t help but smile at his sheepish tone. “Sorry I’ve been avoiding you. I was trying to not be awkward, but I think I made it worse.”

You snickered sarcastically, “So fucking awkward.”

You could feel his breath on the side of your face as he laughed softly, “The worst.”

You turned to face him even though you couldn’t see his face in the pitch black of the room. “For what it’s worth, Steve, I can think of worse ways to wake up.”

“Yeah, like what?”

“Well, you could have been Tony.”

He laughed, “What a horrifying thought.”

“But, uh,” you hesitated, not sure if you’d regret saying what you were about say, “If you do roll over again tonight, don’t worry about it. I mean it is rather drafty in here, and I’d be grateful for the warmth.” You squinted your eyes in embarrassment. Yeah, you were being awkward.

Steve, however, didn’t seem to mind as he laughed softly again, “Well, then what are awe waiting for? Wouldn’t want you to freeze.” It would seem you weren’t the only one emboldened by the comforting darkness of the room.

A jolt of cold energy shot straight through you, and your throat suddenly felt dry. Was Steve being serious, fucking with you, or both? Well, fine, if he wanted to play whatever angle this was, you were gonna call him on his bluff. 

With a shaky laugh, you said, “Well, alright then.” And you proceeded to scoot toward him, where you picked up his arm and wrapped it around yourself as you cozied your back into his chest, adding with a touch of sass, “There, unless you wanted to be the little spoon, that is.”

Steve sucked in a ragged breath, instinctively adjusting his arm to properly hold you, sliding his other arm under your neck to support your head, “Big spoon is fine.” 

You couldn’t be sure if you were successfully flirting with him and wooing him, or if you were cruising toward an official censure from your HR rep the following week. His new hold on you would seem to indicate the former, but you wanted to play it safe. So you added with some caution, “Sorry, only half joking here, but I can scoot back over if you’re uncomfortable.”

“Uhm, no,” Steve stuttered, tightening his hold on you almost imperceptibly. “Are you?”

“Well, obviously not, or I wouldn’t have snuggled up to you, now would I?”

“Point taken,” he whispered dangerously close to your ear as his thumb began tracing small circles on your forearm.

You and he lay there both marveling in the feel of the other but both equally unsure what if anything should be the next step. From your part, you realized on a pragmatic level that calling Steve on his bluff and wrapping yourself in his embrace was a bad idea. You were so wired and oddly turned on by the whole situation that there was no conceivable way you were going to fall asleep any time soon. 

Steve meanwhile was doing his utmost to keep himself under control. He couldn’t stop his thumb from its ministrations, but he could keep himself from confessing his feelings or making an even bigger ass of himself in other countless ways. At least that was his hope.

“Steve?” You voice cut through the silence.

“Yeah?” He asked, his breath still tickling the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

You wanted to tell him about the crush you’d been harboring for the better part of the last year. You wanted to make a first move, old fashioned dating rules be damned. You wanted to turn around in his arms and feel his lips on yours. But a sudden wave of timidity washed through you. 

“Uh, nothing. Never mind,” you whispered lamely.

Steve, not quite sure what exactly he was doing, leaned his face a little closer, his lips almost grazing the top of your ear, “Doesn’t sound like nothing. What’s going on?”

You were positive that if he couldn’t hear your heart hammering against your ribs, then he could most certainly feel your racing pulse in your neck. “I, uhm. Sleep well.” Idiot, idiot, idiot.

Steve couldn’t help but smirk. Time to listen to Bucky and take a leap, “Well, as long as you stay right here where you are, I’ll never sleep better.”

He felt quite satisfied with himself when he felt you let out shuddering breath. Gambling once again, he was pleased at the almost inaudible whine you released when he ever so gently nuzzled the back of your neck and pressed his lips to the goose bumped skin at the nape.

Almost reflexively, without a second thought, you turned around, blindly reaching with your hands for his face in the dark. Your lips crashed together in a sloppy, desperate kiss, but it didn’t matter. You were kissing Steve, and Steve was kissing you. His hands were gripping your sides, tugging you closer, and yours were weaving and tangling themselves into his short hair. And your breath and soft sighs were mingling with his. And the smell of him, the feeling, the taste were enveloping you.

Finally, with a gasp for air you and he broke the kiss.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Steve groaned before his lips began tracing along your chin and jaw and throat.

“I think I can guess, but who cares right now. Just keep going,” you whined, relishing the way his lips were leaving trails of electric heat down your throat and across the top of your shoulder.

Steve let out a whimper against your skin as his hands moved down to the hem of your shirt.

* * *

Your lips felt chapped and in desperate need of lip balm as you slowly blinked against the morning light streaming in through the sheer curtains, but you didn’t dare get up to retrieve it from your bag.

You took a moment to take in the room now that it was light enough to see with no small measure of satisfaction. Several of the pillows and the quilt had been flung to the floor along with your clothes, and there was a decidedly naked Steve holding you tightly to his chest. Indulging yourself, you let your mind wander back to the previous night, letting yourself get lost in the feelings and sensations all over again. 

When you felt Steve’s breathing change rhythm as his lips seemed to instinctively find the side of your neck, you easily brought your mind back to the present. 

“G’morning,” his groggy voice whispered.

“I’d say so, yeah,” you whispered back, reaching for his hands to weave your fingers with his.

You could feel him begin to fidget behind you, so you craned your neck to look back at him, “You okay?”

“He flashed you a sheepish grin, “I’ve gotta go to the bathroom, but I don’t want to get up.”

You giggled and pushed him away gently, “Then go, jeez. UTIs are no joke.”

Clicking his tongue in amused irritation, leaned forward to press a kiss to your cheek before releasing his hold on you and getting out of bed. Slipping on his boxers and t-shirt, he flashed you a rather heartfelt smile before ducking out of the room.

Following his lead, you reluctantly lifted yourself out of bed and began looking for your pajamas, which were strewn across the room. And feeling a bit guilty for christening whatever this budding relationship with Steve was in one of Laura’s guest rooms, you began stripping the bedding with the intention of at least getting the sheets into the washer for her. 

Steve must have been on the same wavelength because when he slipped back into the room, he squared you with an awkward look before walking over to the bed to help with the bedding.

“So,” he muttered, looking up at you from under his lashes. 

You shot him a shy smile, “So.”

“I had fun last night,” he said, now avoiding looking you in the eyes.

“Fun?” You asked, frowning slightly not quite knowing where he was going with this.

“No, not fun. I mean, I had a good time and I… well, I was hoping that you and I could…” He mumbled and trailed off, clearly flustered with himself and the situation.

You bit back a smile and climbed up onto the now bare bed, shuffling on your knees over to him and gently taking one of his hands in your own. “Steve, are you askin’ me to go steady with ya?”

He looked at you with a sarcastic smile. “No, I’m not asking you to ‘go steady.’” He looked at you sincerely, “I’m trying to ask if you’ll be my girlfriend.”

You swallowed at the slight hitch in your throat and the sudden wave of affection that washed over you, “Yeah, I thought that much was obvious.” You let out a contented sigh when he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer.

You looked up into his eyes, loving the way his pupils dilated as he leant down closer to you. Your lips barely brushed when a loud knock on the door interrupted you both.

“Hey, love birds,” Bucky’s voice sounded from behind the door, “When you two are done whispering sweet nothings to each other, Laura’s got breakfast ready. Quiche, two kinds. Keep it in your pants though. None of us want to see that.”

You groaned into Steve’s chest as he laughed in embarrassment before shouting, “Fuck off, Bucky.”

“Love ya too, Stevie,” Bucky called, his steps retreating down the hall.

“Well, the cat’s out of the bag it would seem,” you sighed. 

“It was bound to happen sooner rather than later,” he said, letting his lips glide across your temple.

Finally looking up from his chest, you didn’t wait another beat before you reached your hands around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

Looks like you owed Wanda a favor after all.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah, I changed the ending like 8 times, and I still hate it. But I hope yall enjoyed it!! 
> 
> Also, be sure to check out the other fics in the [writing challenge](https://e-g-b-o-k.tumblr.com/tagged/beccas500followerfrenzy).

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! I've already finished and posted the completed fic on my [tumblr](https://eufeme.tumblr.com/post/172764125325/close-quarters-part-1), but I'll have the second and final part uploaded here hopefully sometime tonight.
> 
> Also, be sure to check out the other fics in the challenge [here](https://e-g-b-o-k.tumblr.com/post/169518258057/500-follower-celebration-writing-challenge)!!


End file.
